


Ancient Lullaby

by WhisperingThieves



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh!
Genre: Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Insomnia, M/M, Nightmares, One Shot, Thiefshipping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-27
Updated: 2016-10-27
Packaged: 2018-08-27 10:08:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,379
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8397499
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhisperingThieves/pseuds/WhisperingThieves
Summary: Sleep often brings haunting nightmares to those who have suffered greatly in the past, as in the case of Marik and Bakura.  Those who don't wish to deal with them, lifelong insomniacs, try their best to avoid being trapped in the world of their subconscious.  Alas, sooner or later, sleep will ensnare them in its claws





	

**Author's Note:**

> I was inspired to write this fic when I realized how many "Marik has a bad dream" fics there are, and on the contrary, how few there are for Bakura. Hope you enjoy!

There was a searing light, and then the world burst into flames. Bakura’s eyes watered, and he used the sleeve of his cloak to cover his mouth in an attempt to keep the smoke from burning his lungs. He snapped to attention when he felt a hand grab his arm, pulling him away from the inferno. 

“This way, quickly!” 

It was a woman’s voice, comforting despite the evident terror in her voice. Bakura let her guide him, weaving them through the burning rubble and decimated corpses. He couldn’t quite make out her face, but she made him momentarily forget the terror as she led him away from the village. Bakura closed his eyes, placing his full trust in the woman. 

The moment of peace, however, vanished all too soon. Bakura felt the grip on his arm weaken, before it was gone altogether. His eyes shot open, his eyes landing on the now barely conscious woman being dragged away by several soldiers. The soldiers seemed to pay Bakura no mind, as they dragged the weak, yet still struggling woman back into the village. He gave chase, the smoke stinging his eyes and closing his throat as he ran. Yet, the faster he ran, the further away the soldiers seemed to go, and soon they had disappeared completely in the thick smoke. He ran through the village, the ruins seeming to form a maze, trapping him. The exertion of it all combined with the suffocating smoke sent the thief to his knees, coughing and gasping for clean air. He could taste blood at the back of his throat and spat it out, watching as the blood quickly blended in with the rusted sand. 

A shrill screech caused the thief to raise his head, and his eyes widened at the scene playing out. The soldiers still clung to that woman, dangling her in front of an oasis of molten gold. Bakura screamed as she was pushed in, her identity leaving his raw throat before his brain could even comprehend who exactly she was. 

“ _Mother!_ ” 

__ 

Bakura awoke with a strangled cry, sitting up in bed and shivering as cold sweat clung to his skin. He hugged his knees to his chest, and buried his head in them, willing for his breathing to calm down before his bedmate woke up. A stirring, along with a gentle yawn on the other side of the bed made sure there was no chance of that happening. 

“Bakura…?” An accented, half asleep voice mumbled. “What time is it?” It was evident from his tone of voice that he hadn’t bothered to sit up, or even open his eyes. 

“Go back to sleep, Marik.” Bakura tried to keep his tone firm, but his breath hitching as he choked back a sob completely ruined his attempt at a calm demeanor. 

Marik rolled over and looked at Bakura, brows furrowing in concern. “Bakura?” 

“Go. Back. To. Sleep.” Bakura partially lifted his face from his knees, glaring at Marik with irritated, red rimmed eyes. 

Ignoring the other’s request, Marik reached out with his hand, fingers gently tracing down Bakura’s arm. “Are you alright?” 

The touch on Bakura’s arm sent him reeling back, Marik’s gentle touch turning into the reassuring grip of his Mother. He curled himself against the headboard. “I’m fine. Just leave,” he spat through clenched teeth. 

Marik withdrew his outstretched arm, pursing his lips, unsure of what to do. He recalled a plethora of times he himself had awoken in a similar state, and Bakura had been there to calm and allow him to cry it out. Puzzlingly, despite their shared traumatic childhood experiences, Marik had never seen Bakura show any signs of it having an ongoing effect on his life-- no panic attacks, no nightmares, and no tears. Marik couldn’t leave Bakura by himself to suffer, but the thief didn’t seem to want any human contact. The Egyptian sat up, looking away in thought, before he climbed out of bed. “I’m going to start a kettle for tea.” 

__ 

Bakura sat at the dining room table, keeping a white knuckled grip on a steaming cup of Earl Gray. He kept the cup to his lips, slowly letting the steaming liquid drip down his throat-- anything to keep from having to engage with Marik, who was staring at him from his spot across the table. 

Marik sighed, breaking the silence. “Come on, Bakura. You’ll feel a lot better if you just talk it out… Trust me.” 

“There’s nothing to talk about.” 

“That’s complete bullshit and you know it.” 

The two stared at each other, neither willing to give in to the other. Deciding to be the better person for once, Marik relented. 

“If you don’t want to tell me what it was about, can you at least tell me why you freaked out so bad? I’ve never seen you react like that-- like, ever.” 

“That’s because I don’t dream. I’m not used to… the events that come with it.” 

Marik raised his brows. “I’m pretty sure _everyone_ dreams.” 

Bakura shook his head. “When I was younger, dreams plagued me every fucking night… I couldn’t get anything done or even properly feed myself from the mental and physical exhaustion that came with them. I avoided sleep for the most part, but found myself passing out and taking short naps in the day.” He took a long sip of tea. “It was then I found that my dreams completely stopped.” 

“...And I take it you've never stopped?” 

“Why would I? What’s wrong with it?” Bakura shrugged. “It’s not like I can stop or anything-- I’ve spent too many years training myself to wake up in near constant intervals. Keeps me from dreaming, and it doesn’t affect your sleep.” 

“It’s not healthy!” Marik blurted, mind racing, trying to remember some excepts he’d read from a psychology book that was recommended to him by an old therapist, and Ishizu had gone the extra mile and made sure he actually read the boring book. Something about REM sleep, and the body repairing itself? He wasn’t quite sure. Regardless, Marik knew that Bakura’s sleep schedule wasn’t exactly beneficial in the long run. “I don’t know anything about the whole scientifical bullshit reasoning behind it, but not letting yourself sleep deep enough isn’t all that great for your body.” 

“I’ve been doing this for years, and I’m fine.” 

Marik snorted. “Under-eye circles as thick as yours aren’t normal. You’ve been rocking the raccoon look for so long, you don’t even know what a healthy complexion is supposed to look like.” 

“I’m not changing my sleeping patterns.” Bakura replied defensively. 

“You’ll be a lot less groggy during the day if you-” 

“I said no!” Bakura snapped, setting his now empty tea mug onto the table with a bit more force than necessary and standing from his chair. 

Marik stared into Bakura’s defiant eyes, his outburst reminding the Egyptian of that of a child. He knew those eyes, he wore those eyes before, after seemingly endless terror filled nights haunted his childhood in the tombs. He had screamed, hit, threw violent tantrums-- anything to prevent himself from sleeping. Marik began to hum a wordless tune, something his siblings used to sing to him when insomnia had plagued him. He’d all but forgotten the words, but the melody remained ingrained in his head. 

The thief's defensive glare turned into a look of confusion, before morphing into one of saddened nostalgia. “I know that song…” He muttered, racking his brain, trying to place just exactly where he knew it from. He settled back in the chair, deep in thought. “...My mother.” 

Marik stopped the slow tune momentarily. “Ishizu used to sing this to me when I had trouble sleeping in the tombs. She said it was an ancient song, passed through the generations.” He smiled softly, “I didn’t think it was that old though.” 

Bakura rested his arms on the table, and rested his head on them. “Don’t stop.” 

So Marik went on humming the ancient song. He only stopped when he heard the soft snoring of the thief across from him. Rising from his chair, he gently picked up the now deep asleep man, easily cradling his petite, pale body in his arms, and carried him off to bed.


End file.
